Queen of the Underworld
by monsterXmash
Summary: A gladiatrix enters the ludus and challenges Spartacus to reevaluate all that he holds dear. ::: Spartacus/OFC
1. Mark of the Sisterhood

**Queen of the Underworld**

Chapter 1: _Mark of the Sisterhood_

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><p>A gladiatrix enters the ludus and challenges Spartacus to reevaluate all that he holds dear. :: SpartacusOFC ::

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><p>The noise was deafening in the underground arena. The crowd's roaring demand for blood overpowered all else, even the booming of the woman's own heart. She stood in the middle of the dirt floor, clad in nothing more than a cloth covering her modesty and a metal breast plate that barely hid anything. Her skin was caked with blood and grime, the color of her blonde hair almost indistinguishable. Tonight, she had fought her way up the ranks - eight other woman killed at the end of her blade. She had one more to go.<p>

The crowd howled when a tall, dark man stood up in the middle of the ring. This is what they had all been waiting for.

"We have seen Alba fight. We have seen Alba kill. We have seen eight unworthy opponents fall under her sword! Now we will see her face our champion!"

The crowd exploded in cheers.

"Enter, Proserpina! Dread Queen of the Underworld! Goddess of death! Sent to the mortal world to bring these poor souls down to the stinking flames of Hell!"

A woman emerged from a dark cell in one of the walls. She wore the same clothes as the blonde, but a silver mask in the likeness of a goddess covered her face. Her dark hair was piled up tall on her head and her bronze skin was covered with oil and scars.

As she entered into the light, she took in her opponent - she was big, taller than most women, and muscular. Proserpina had imagined her frightened - legs trembling and breath ragged. Instead, the long sword was held high in front of her, ready to attack. The Goddess smirked behind the mask. Maybe they have given her a worthy opponent for once.

She approached the man and slightly bowed her head to him. "Behanzin." She used only his name in greeting. He gave her a hard look but she read the emotion clearly in his eyes. Be careful, she felt them say, she is not like the others. The girl nodded her head in response. She then reached into the bag that the man was holding out to her and retrieved a slip of paper.

"The Goddess has chosen war fans!"

The woman was handed her weapons and she held them up above her for the crowd to see. Once again, the people cheered and she made her way to the center of the pit. Flicking her wrists, she began opening and closing the fans, trying to quickly learn the mechanics of them. They were fairly easy to wield, but getting near enough to strike would bring her dangerously close to the other woman's longsword.

Before Proserpina could get in position, the woman lunged towards her with a frightening roar. Hastily, the girl evaded the swing of her sword, rolling away, not being prepared to counterattack. The blonde used the force of the missed blow to pivot back around and charge at her opponent again, missing her once more. The fighter was hasty, too hasty, but she was also strong. The Goddess was considerably smaller, but quicker, and managed to elbow her sharply in the ribs as she ducked under the blade.

The swordswoman grunted in pain but recovered almost immediately. She had learned her lesson. She backed a few paces away from the smaller girl while catching her breath. Proserpina allowed her to do so, just so she could have time to gauge how far she could throw her steel fan. She decided against it - her aim would be far from accurate without the proper practice. But she had to do something soon.

Before she could act, the woman leapt at her again in an attempt to plunge the sword into the girl's abdomen. She tried sidestepping it but was not quick enough and the end of the blade sliced the flesh of her stomach. The distraction allowed the woman time to spin off her front leg and kick the brunette in her temple with the back of her heel. The Goddess's vision blurred as she fell to the ground. The blonde gave her no time to collect herself and, as she stood over her with legs on either side of her body, she attempted to stab her while she was on the floor. Prosperpina rolled her upper body to the side to avoid the blow. The force of the impact to the dirt floor made the sword get momentarily stuck in it. The brunette pushed her pelvis up and kicked the woman in her back, causing her to stumble forward.

Proserpina was ready to finish this.

She rolled back, standing on her hands, then came down quickly to her feet. She turned and charged at the woman, shielding herself from the sword with her open fans. The weapon got caught between the ribs of the fan and the Goddess twisted it out of the woman's grip. She quickly closed them up after the sword fell to the dirt floor and punch the woman in the nose. The weight of the steel fan in her hand added strength to the blow and she felt the bones in the woman's nose collapse under the force.

The blonde staggered back, blood pouring down her face and onto her chest. Proserpina pounced at the woman again, and as she protected her face with her fist in anticipation of another punch, the Goddess lunged down low and brought her open fans up, slicing the woman's stomach with the sharp ends of her weapons. The woman shrieked in pain.

Proserpina used the power from her stance and sprung up and flipped backwards into the air. Her foot connected under the woman's chin and sent her flying up and then onto the ground with a hard thud. Unfortunately, the flip caused the wound in the brunette's side to open more and blood was now coursing down her hip and leg.

"KILL HER!" she heard from the crowd.

The blonde scrambled to get up, but was still without her weapon. Proserpina attacked again. The larger woman managed to block her punches until the Goddess's left fist connected hard with her chin. Without losing a second, she plunged the sharp tip of her right closed fan into the woman's stomach. She doubled over and held her hands over her wound, but the blood continued to pour out of her body. She looked up at the masked figure of Proserpina in front of her. The woman flicked open her fans with a loud pop. With a lightening fast swipe of her weapon, she slit the woman's throat wide open.

Only now did Proserpina once again her the roar of the crowd around her. Only now did she once again smell the blood and dirt and filth around her. She looked at the people cheering and booing. She approached Behanzin where he had observed the fight.

"Once again, our champion, Proserpina, Queen of the Underworld!"

She turned and popped her fans out once more, raising them, then bowing low to the crowd.

"How is your side?" Behanzin asked her while the people around the pit either collected their money or paid their dues.

"It is but a flesh wound. I will live," the woman responded behind her mask.

"The fighters get better every week."

"Of course - she is a sister. It pained me to end her life."

The man furrowed his brow in confusion.

"She bares the mark of an Amazon," Proserpina explained to him.

Behanzin nodded his head in understanding and the girl walked back to the cell, thoughtlessly rubbing the black mark on the back of her shoulder.

-X-x-X-

"An impressive display! She is well received, Calvus," the man said, looking around him.

"Yes, yes. The best investment I have made in years," the older man told his companion. "But these winnings will soon not be able to hold me over. I am still in debt, and that is a dangerous thing."

The younger man looked at his friend thoughtfully and smiled. "That is exactly why I came to make offer."

Batiatus clasped a hand on the man's shoulder and lead him away to a quieter place so that they could strike up a deal.


	2. Goddess of the Pit

**Queen of the Underworld**

Chapter 2: _Goddess of the Pit_

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><p>"You can not possibly send her down to the ludus!"<p>

"She will be a gladiator!" Batiatus replied to his wife. "Where else would she stay but with the other gladiators?"

"They are animals. If she is sent down there, she will be killed before morning. I will not allow it, if only to not waste coin that you so foolishly spent."

Proserpina stood in front of two other slaves, watching the disagreement from the middle of the room. She lightly shifted her weight from one leg to the other while listening to her masters. She was uncomfortable in her new surroundings. But her new task was promising. Her, a gladiatrix? She had not fought outside the pits in many months, nor trained with other women in years. She was reminded of her old home, which she had not seen since she was sold, but quickly shook the thought from her head.

"She will stay with the other slaves. Naevia, Mira - get her cleaned up. I will not have such filth in my home." Lucretia stormed away from them, leaving her husband behind with the women.

Batiatus threw his hands up in defeat and turned his attention to the girl. "You will wake every morning with the slaves. You will train every day with the gladiators. You will fight in the pits until I decide otherwise. You will do all this until you earn the mark of the brotherhood. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Dominus."

He approached her and softened his voice. "I know what you wish for. Fight for the House of Batiatus. Become a champion. Bring honor to your name and mine. And it will be done." The man motioned to the two slaves behind her. "See that she is properly attended to."

-X-x-X-

After a sleepless few hours, Proserpina was lead down to the ludus where she was presented with an unexpected sight. The ludus was filled with only men, not women as she previously assumed. She stopped for a moment and the guard escorting her pushed her into the room. She stumbled forward but quickly corrected herself and slowly made her way over to a table with a man handing out her long awaited breakfast.

"This is the woman you were telling me about? The one from the pits? Some Queen of the Underworld!" Varro taunted his friend and laughed. Spartacus turned to him with a resolute expression.

"She shows promise, Varro."

"She is a gimmick bought for Dominus's amusement! She will not last a minute in training, let alone the arena." The blonde shook his head and both men continued eating until they heard a crashing of bowls that had fallen to the ground.

They stood up quickly, as had everyone else, only to see a struggling Proserpina bent over one of the wooden tables, cheek flush to the surface. A man was behind her, groping the naked flesh of her thigh.

"Look! Dominus has given us a new toy to play with!"

Before he could say anything else, the girl brought her foot up and kicked the man between his legs with all the force that she could muster. As he bent forward in pain, the girl brought her arm back and elbowed the gladiator in the nose not once, but twice. The man covered his face, but the blood only seeped between his fingers.

"BITCH! YOU BROKE MY NOSE!"

"Gnaeus, enough! Leave her be," Spartacus said as he came over to where to girl was, and stood between her and the gladiator.

The bleeding man stepped forward and laughed at him. "Does our champion have a hard on for the little cunt?"

Proserpina lunged towards the man but was promptly stopped by Spartacus. "Calm yourself," he commanded and, for some reason unbeknownst to her, she submitted to him. He looked back at Gnaeus but did not say a word. His expression seemed to be enough and the other gladiator walked away. Spartacus considered the porridge that covered the floor and then the girl. "Come with me," he told her and she followed.

When they sat down at the table, he gave her the rest of his food, which she happily accepted. The gladiator introduced himself as Spartacus, and his blonde companion as Varro.

She nodded her head. "Proserpina."

Varro chuckled. "Yes, Queen of the Underworld, Goddess of the Pit."

She looked at him confused, but Spartacus interjected. "I have been to the pits. I've seen you fight."

The woman held back a proud smile and took another spoonful of her porridge.

"You wouldn't last a minute against any one of these men," he added.

Proserpina stopped chewing and scowled at the man. Varro almost choked on his food from laughing.

"Spartacus!" The three looked over to where Oenomaus was standing, arms crossed and whip in hand. Without another word, the man left the table and approached Doctore.

"The girl - get her up to speed."

"Yes, Doctore."

Before the gladiator could leave, the man grabbed his arm and brought him closer. "Nobody thinks she should be here. Help her prove them otherwise."

Spartacus nodded his head and stepped out into the hot morning sun.


	3. Attack and Retreat

**Queen of the Underworld**

Chapter 3: _Attack and Retreat_

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><p>"So what will I be fighting with?" the woman asked, almost bursting with anticipation. "Sword and shield?"<p>

"No, a shield will weigh you down," Spartacus explained to her.

She looked around and spotted Barca, wielding his weapon effortlessly. "A spear, then?"

"A Hoplomachus must constantly be on the offensive. So no, not a spear." Spartacus produced two wooden swords and thrust one of the pointed ends towards her, which she quickly evaded. "You must learn to use your speed against their strength." He went to make a swipe across her neck and she ducked just in time. "Attack and retreat and let him wear himself out."

He handed the hilts of the swords to the woman and picked up a wooden sword and shield of his own. "Attack me."

The woman lunged at the gladiator, attempting to thrust her sword into his stomach. He easily deflected the blow with his shield and came down hard on the sword with his own, knocking it out of her hand. He did not allow her to pick it up, but came at her from above with his weapon, which she blocked, but the strength of his sword against hers was too much and with a quick swipe of his leg she was brought off her feet. Spartacus put the point of his sword against the woman's throat.

"Missio," he said and demonstrated with his hand. "Two fingers raised as a sign of surrender."

"Surrender?" she questioned and Spartacus pushed the sword closer to her throat so that the point was now making a mark in her flesh. The woman moved quicker than anyone that Spartacus had ever seen. She brought her right foot up to kick the gladiator in his forearm, making the sword fly out of his hand. For a second he questioned whether his arm was broke or not. And in that instant, the woman brought that leg over her other, turned and raised herself on her hands, while kicking Spartacus in the jaw with her left heel. Her back hit the ground once more, but this time the gladiator was in the dirt beside her. Proserpina tried to catch her breath, but it was a difficult task under the scalding Roman sun. She barely turned her head to look at her sparring partner, and saw him doing the same. "I will never surrender."

The woman stood up and extended a hand towards Spartacus and helped him to his feet. Proserpina picked up her swords and stood ready to fight again. The man did the same and charged at her. Though she blocked his hits with her own swords, the force that he put behind his blows quickly wore the gladiatrix out. When he found the opportunity, Spartacus hit her hard in the chest with his shield, and she flew back and found herself once again in the hot sand.

The gladiator stood above her head. She brought her leg up to kick him, but this time he was ready and grabbed her ankle. "Attack and retreat!" he yelled and pushed her leg back to the ground. "Again!"

-X-x-X-

The training was hard on Proserpina, and the day was only half over. She knew that Spartacus showed her mercy when fighting and she was glad of it.

"Rest," Doctored called. "We will continued after midday's sun."

"You are doing well, Proserpina," Spartacus said as he clasped her shoulder in one of his hands. "But you must take heed lest you fail the test."

"But retreating, Spartacus? Running away?" She threw her wooden swords on the ground, causing the dust to stir around her feet.

"Not run. Evade." The man swung his sword at her, and just like the first time, she quickly ducked underneath the blade. "You would not be able to block that blow, but you easily evade it. It takes much more energy to swing and miss than to swing and hit."

She breathed a heavy sigh, but said nothing in return.

-X-x-X-

"She has not been off her ass for more than two minutes," Lucretia recounted to her husband. "I fear that your experiment has failed."

Batiatus stood behind his wife, kneading her shoulders in his hands. "Failed? She is the talk of Capua! A woman fighting for the House of Batiatus? She already has the masses on her side. Soon she will have all of Rome cheering her name."

Lucretia scoffed at her husband and watched Spartacus and Proserpina go to receive their lunch. "And if death finds her before she makes it to the arena?"

"The woman is a fighter! I have seen her in the Pits. And under the hand of the Champion of Capua, she is sure to bring honor to this house." The man felt his wife's shoulders tense. "The deed is done, Lucretia. If you have a better idea of how to put her talents to use, they would not fall on deaf ears."

The domina smirked to herself, but never took her eyes off of the two gladiators. "I am sure she could be used to our benefit somehow. She is, of course, our little experiment."


	4. Mythos

**Queen of the Underworld**

Chapter 4: _Mythos_

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><p>Sleep came fast for the weary Proserpina that night. It was dreamless and peaceful, and she paid no mind to the resting slaves on pallets beside her. She rose early with them, but instead of going about household chores as they did, she made her way down to the ludus. She received her breakfast without incident and sat with Varro as she did the day before. The air around them seemed more relaxed than it did yesterday, and the rain that blew in from the outside moistened her skin.<p>

"Where is Doctore and the others?" she asked. _Where is Spartacus_?

"Gone to market with Dominus," the man replied.

Proserpina stirred her food in thought. "So no training today?"

Varro smiled at Proserpina. "Spartacus asked me to continue helping you, oh Goddess of the Underworld." She could not help but smile along with him. Not since she was a young girl had anyone regarded her with kindness and she was thankful for him.

-X-x-X-

"You will not hurt me, Varro! Do not go easy on me."

"I have never hit a girl before," he told her as they sparred with each other. She huffed and kicked his legs from under him. Varro landed on the wet ground with a hard thud. She stood over him and smiled.

"Think of me not as a girl, but a warrior. And attack me with purpose." She gently kicked the man in his hip, urging him to get up. He stood and attempted to wipe the sand off of him, but it was of no use. He looked up at the sky and pushed his wet hair back from his forehead.

"Spartacus will drown us all."

The girl's attention piqued when she heard the name of her tutor and she looked at the man curiously. "What is your meaning?"

Varro noticed the change in the girl, though he said nothing of it. He swung his sword, harder than he had before, but Proserpina still blocked it. "Spartacus defeated the great Theokoles and in return, Jupiter blessed him with rain," he said. "But now I feel that it will never end."

The girl was surprised. So Spartacus was the Champion of Capua, the man that she had heard whispers about in the pits? Proserpina was momentarily thrown off her guard and Varro hit her in the ribs with his wooden sword where she was already wounded. He immediately dropped his sword and apologized. She was holding her side, but told the man that she was not hurt.

"Let us rest," he suggested with concern in his voice.

"No! I am fine, Varro," the girl urged.

He patted her on the back. "You do not give me worry. I need relief from the rain. Let us go and sit under the shelter."

When they were settled and drying, Varro proceeded to tell Proserpina about the gladiators in the ludus. His stories entertained her to no end - of the Beast of Carthage, of the Undefeated Gaul, and especially of the Celtic Lion who had won his freedom at the request of the crowd. She would hear her names in stories, she promised herself, her real name and not the Roman one given to her. The man must have seen the desire in her eyes. "You may yet be in mythos yourself," he said. She gave him a half smile and looked down at her dirty hands.

"Why are you here?" the man asked.

"I am a slave," she replied, "sold many times over, until fate landed me here."

"Fate?"

She nodded her head. "I was born to fight. Not to serve or dance like all the other times before. Here I can do what I was intended of me."

"If you were born to fight, how did you become a slave?"

"Punishment for my mother's transgressions. She loved a man and renounced Amazon law. Men are meant for breeding and nothing more," she said as she shrugged her shoulders. "So they say."

Varro gave her a mischievious grin. "I have heard that some men allow capture, just in hopes of making love to an Amazon warrior."

This time, Proserpina was not so amused, but the gladiator was unmoved by the girl's cold change in attitude. "You do not believe all of your stories, do you Varro?"

He nodded his head. "Yes, most of them."

"Proserpina!" The two looked up and saw a guard standing in front of them. "You have been summoned." She glanced at Varro and then stood to follow the guard.

-X-x-X-

A still damp Proserpina was lead to a room where her Dominus was sitting with his wife and an older man. Spartacus was there as well, instructing a young boy on how to wield a sword. He was clothed in what looked like new armor, void of any dents or scratches, and was without a doubt an impressive sight. He gave a light nod of the head in acknowledgement as Proserpina was brought closer, and she gave one in return.

"Ah, the goddess arrives!" Batiatus announced and Lucretia looked at the girl in distaste. "Magistrate, let me introduce Proserpina." The girl stood in front of them, allowing the man to look her over.

The older man nodded his head in approval. "How did you come to own this girl?" he asked.

"A chance meeting in the market," Batiatus replied. "Her former owner could no longer afford to house her so I took her off of his hands."

"A gracious gesture," Lucretia said and put a hand on her husband's back.

"She is of a form," the magistrate continued, "but do you truly believe she stands a chance against gladiators in the arena?"

"I would stake my very reputation on it!" Batiatus said. "A demonstration perhaps, between her and Spartacus?"

"Not now!" the boy whined, still sparring with the gladiator. "I am just getting the hang of it."

"Another time, then," Batiatus said with a forced smile. Lucretia motioned for Proserpina to move out of the way, so she stood to the side of her Domina where she could still watch the pair fight.

"A true warrior needs only his sword to claim his fate," she heard Spartacus say. The boy removed the heavy belt that was around his waist and Proserpina watched as the gladiator stared intently at the knife that it hid for a brief moment.

"His fifteenth birthday approaches and my ears are assaulted with requests for pairs to show demonstration at his party," the magistrate told Batiatus.

"I am sure we can come to some sort of arrangement. I have plenty of fine gladiators ripe for the picking."

"Perhaps Crixus," Lucretia added, "when he recovers from his wounds of course."

Before the magistrate could answer, a man entered the room, announcing that he had a message for the magistrate. It was of no concern to Proserpina so she continued to watch Spartacus and the boy. The gladiator was swift and smart, but gentle with his partner. Proserpina could not help but stare at his strong arms and legs as he thrust his sword and lunged towards his opponent.

The magistrate stood, and told his son that they must depart. The others stood to wish him farewell, but Proserpina kept her eyes on Spartacus. The gladiator inconspicuously took the knife he admired earlier and hid it among his arm wrappings. He looked around to see if anyone noticed, and his eyes landed on the girl. She raised her eyebrows at him skeptically, but he gave her no response in return.


	5. Have the Gods No Mercy?

**Queen of the Underworld**

Chapter 5

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><p>The music resonating through the slave chambers from the ludus below made it impossible for Proserpina to sleep. Every so often she could hear what could be either a scream or laugh, and wondered what the gladiators were doing down there so late at night. She quietly sat up and looked around the dark room. Some of the slaves were not yet there, but the ones that were seemed to be fast asleep. Silently, she stood from her pallet on the floor, but before she moved any further, she scanned the room once more. Nobody stirred, so she crept out the door.<p>

Proserpina could now only hear the hard patter of rain on the roof as she made her way down the deserted hall, but she could feel the floors quivering underneath her bare feet, giving life to her destination. Slowly she walked, making certain that she would not chance upon a guard. Now, the only obstacle between her and the ludus was the foreroom, which was still brightly lit. Her heart fluttered. She knew not what would happen to her if she was caught out of bed sneaking around her master's house and she did not want to find out.

The woman meant to follow the wall until she reached the stairs, but before she could move she heard a commotion and hid herself behind the curtains. She steadied her breathing and waited for it to pass, but the voices were getting louder, so she peaked her head from behind the drapery. As she did, she saw guards run past her and she looked forward to where they were heading. Barca ran into the room and slid to a stop when he too saw the oncoming guards. More followed behind him and he frantically looked around, a beast caught in a trap.

The gladiator gave what he could, but in the end, there were too many against him. The men sliced through his body as both Proserpina and her Dominus looked on. Lucretia and her body slave, Naevia, rushed past the girl's hiding place, but did not notice her in all the upheaval. Proserpina stood motionless, wishing she could help, but knowing that she would suffer a similar fate. Barca was still alive, barely, as he crawled out into the rain. Batiatus came after him, knife in hand, and pulled Barca's head back by his hair. "Now you're free!" he yelled as he slit the gladiator's throat. Blood filled the courtyard.

"Barca purchased his freedom," Lucretia turned and explained to Naevia. "You wished him well and escorted him through the gates of the villa. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Domina," a shaking Naevia replied. Lucretia struck the girl across her face. From her place behind the curtain, Proserpina was so close that she could see the red mark form on the slave's face.

"Do you understand?" she repeated.

"Yes!"

In the midst of the chaos, there came a knocking at the door. As her masters tried to quickly hide the slain body of the gladiator, Proserpina slipped away and went back to the slave quarters.

o0oOo0oOo0o

Tired and bleary-eyed, Proserpina reluctantly walked down to the ludus the next morning. She was greeted with the sight of drunken men, passed out on every surface. Though the stench was almost unbearable, she stayed under the shelter of the ludus for as long as she could. Yesterday she reveled in the cool relief that the rain gave, but today it only brought back recent memories of a fallen gladiator, so cruelly slain by his own master. Trying to rid herself of these thoughts, she watched as Spartacus and Varro spoke to one another, then embraced. Varro looked displeased, but his companion walked off anyway. Spartacus stopped in front of Proserpina and stood, contemplative as if he wanted to tell her something, but he did not. He merely placed a firm hand on her shoulder as he walked past.

"The day gives me worry," Proserpina said to Varro after she walked out to join him on the sand.

"This is a day to rejoice," the gladiator replied, but his manner left her unconvinced. "Today, Spartacus will be reunited with his wife."

Proserpina looked behind her, to where Spartacus had disappeared moments before, but she only saw the same drunken men. "A cause for celebration if there ever was one," she said, though her voice did not convey the same happiness, and she did not know why.

Varro countenance matched the girl's voice. "Indeed."

The couplet stood in silence, both willing the rain to wash away their worries, but they were interrupted by a cart entering the gate. Proserpina watched as Spartacus emerged from his cell and walked towards the cart, then turned to look at Varro and herself. His face was stern, set upon whatever it was that he intended to do. Proserpina looked up at Varro, whose gaze was elsewhere. An approaching Doctore held his attention and the blonde attempted to stop him as he passed but was easily pushed out of the way. The girl turned her focus back to Spartacus, trying to make clear the situation.

The man driving the cart pulled his cloak away from his body. "Attacked," she heard the bloody man say. She gripped Varro's arm in apprehension as they watched the scene unfold.

Spartacus ran to the back of the cart and a blood-spattered woman fell into the gladiator's arms. He allowed them both to fall to the ground as he cradled his wife. Her body was limp, but her eyes yet moved and focused on the man holding her. Tears filled his eyes as her hand stroked his face and caressed the armor that Proserpina herself so admired only the day before. Everything was silent. The few gladiators that were not still unconscious woefully observed as their champion's wife died in his arms.

"Have the gods no mercy?" Varro croaked, more to himself than anyone else. Proserpina watched as Spartacus spilled tears for his wife. She thought back on the night that had passed, as she secretly watched her dominus slit Barca's throat.

"Not for slaves," she replied and walked under the shade of the ludus.


	6. The Warrior's Way

**Queen of the Underworld**

Chapter 6: _The Warrior's Way_

* * *

><p><em>"What else do the Gods tell you about my future?"<em>

_"That you will never love another woman."_

-X-x-X-

When the sun descended from the sky, the gladiators communed on the sand. A few carried torches, to light their way in the dark night, Proserpina included. And they waited, still and silent, until Spartacus carried out his wife, wrapped in pure white gauze. The gladiators stood, watching and mourning with their champion. When the woman was laid down, Varro handed Spartacus his torch. The gladiator looked down at the woman for a moment, before he reluctantly lit the pyre, burning the woman's body into naught but ash.

"Your wife is in a better place," Proserpina said as she sat down beside Spartacus in his cell. He placed his head on her chest, surprising the girl. Apprehensively, she put a hand on his head and gently stroked his hair. "She is free from the pain of this mortal world."

"Are you saying that she is better off dead?" he asked.

"I am saying that she is better off because she is not here," the girl explained.

The man raised his head and stared at Proserpina. "She would be better off in my arms, no matter where we were," Spartacus told her, and the Amazon could not tell whether it was a yell or a whisper. She said nothing in reply, but only shook her head. "You know nothing of love," the man stated simply.

"You are right in that," Proserpina agreed, looking down at the dirty stubs that could barely be considered fingernails. "But I know much about death. I have felt it in my hands, tasted it on my tongue." The girl looked back at Spartacus. "And I know that in the moment death is found, all know peace."

The gladiator twirled the stolen Thracian knife in his fingers. "What of those left behind? Where is the peace that they seek?"

Proserpina sighed. "It is never found; not while their heart is still beating." The two stared at each other for a moment, their contact only broken when an unnoticed Varro spoke.

"That is unwise," he said, motioning to the knife. "If the guards were to see you with it -"

"What could they do to me that hasn't already been done?" Spartacus bent his head again. "I never should have left her."

"You did not leave her," Proserpina whispered, close to his ear. "She was taken from you."

"Before I left for war, she asked me not to go," he explained.

"You are a warrior," the girl said. "It is the way."

"You did what you thought was right, to protect her," Varro added. "You should toss that over the cliff," he said of the stolen weapon. "Best to be done with such thoughts." The gladiator clasped a hand over Spartacus's and stood up to leave. With a nod of his head, Varro gestured for Proserpina to follow him.

-X-x-X-

"Do you think he would jump?" Proserpina asked Varro as they watched Spartacus kneeling at the edge of the cliff. The morning was hot and it felt as if her flesh was baking under the scalding Roman sun. The light shone off of the Champion's glistening back, but he seemed not to notice.

"No, I have no worries of that," Varro told her.

The girl jumped at the sudden crack of Doctore's whip. "The day's training begins. Pair up! Spartacus, you face me."

Varro and Prosperina took their positions in front of each other. The Amazon rolled her wrist, swinging the wooden swords around in a circle. "I have never seen a man so broken," she said to her partner when she was sure Spartacus could not hear her.

Varro grunted as he lunged at the girl. "Spartacus is strong," he told her, swinging his sword, almost connecting with the girl's neck. "You worry for nothing."

Proserpina could feel her face turning red. "I am not worried, only curious." The girl went to hit Varro in the nose with the hilt of her sword, but he quickly pushed her away with his shield. She stumbled back, but did not fall. "What other than a wound could cut a man so deeply?"

"It is love, Amazon." He repeated Spartacus's words from the night before with a smile. "Something you know nothing of."

The girl tried to attack Varro, but he quickly moved out of the way. "I was not taught to love," she said and kicked the man in the chest. "I was taught to fight."

Varro groaned but did not let his lack of breath stop him. He made like he was going to thrust his sword into the girl's stomach, but instead, swiped his leg under hers so that she fell on her back. She laid in the dirt for a moment before the gladiator held out his hand to help her up. As she stood, Spartacus passed the two, and she stared after him, her eyes following the champion into the ludus. Varro put a hand on her shoulder. "Love is not something that is taught. It is something that you feel."


	7. A Man Amongst Many

**Queen of the Underworld**

Chapter 7:_ A Man Amongst Many_

"Pietros, bring more water," Spartacus said firmly to the boy. "Now."

Pietros stood and scampered off quickly. Varro and Proserpina exchanged glances, then looked back to where Gnaeus was sitting, smirking and obviously pleased with himself. "Fucking pig. The way he paws at the boy," Varro muttered, disgusted.

Spartacus shook his head softly. "The fault lies with Barca, for leaving him."

Proserpina looked down at her half uneaten food. The truth was burning to come out of her, like bile rising up in her throat. She swallowed hard and stirred the contents of her bowl. When she looked back up, Ashur was standing in front of the trio.

"It's delivered?" Varro asked him, hopeful.

"As promised."

"A letter to my wife," he explained to his companions.

Spartacus smiled, a soft, sad smile. "Long overdue," he said and Proserpina nodded her head.

The man turned back to Ashur. "Did you bring a reply?"

"She did not favor me with one," he told the gladiator. Varro looked down at his hands, face turning a pale shade of pink. "She insisted on bringing you the message herself."

A woman entered the gates with a young boy who could not be anyone but Varro's son. His hair was blonde and curled, just as his father's. He had the same foolish grin.

Varro ran over to them, embracing the two and showering them with kisses, reunited as Spartacus and his wife should have been. Prosperina looked over to the champion, who would not meet her eye. He swallowed hard, no doubt trying to stop the tears from forming in his eyes. Proserpina looked back over to the family. She wanted to turn away, to let them have their private reunion, but she could not. Is this what Spartacus and Varro had spoken of? Love? The touch of a wife's lips? The feel of a child in your arms?

Her thoughts were interrupted by Pietros bringing Spartacus the water that he requested. He thanked the boy and sent him on another frivolous task. Proserpina turned again to Varro and his wife. The love had turned to something that Proserpina was familiar with. Varro stood, angry, while his wife grabbed hold of him, pleading it looked like, for something. He pushed the woman away and stalked off in tears.

Proserpina made to go after him, but before she could stand, Spartacus put a rough hand on her bare knee, silently telling her to let their friend be. She sighed then leaned back in her seat. Varro's wife collapsed on the bench, not able to wipe away the tears fast enough before more streamed down her face. If this was love, Proserpina wanted nothing to do with the moronic emotion.

"You will help me train today?" the girl asked of Spartacus, breaking the long silence. He had not helped her since her first day in the ludus, and she was eager for more lessons with the champion.

"You musn't fall behind if you wish to earn the mark."

Proserpina attempted to hold back a smile. She was going to be a gladiatrix, a true and honorable fighter, not just a killer in the pits. And Spartacus would help her rise to the occasion, the Champion of Capua.

"Do not look so pleased," Spartacus said. "We have much work to do. You must _earn_ the mark of the brotherhood. It is not freely given."

Proserpina's heart stopped for a moment. The brotherhood. She stared at Spartacus who was too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice. She would be a brother, counted one among the men. _A brother. A man_. She looked down at her scarred and dirty knuckles. She wiped the palms of her hands on the top of her tunic. She felt the small swell of barely-there breasts, something she had scarcely noticed before_. I am even built like a man,_ she thought. But then why did she long for Spartacus to see her as a woman?

-X-x-X-

"Proserpina, do you not remember our lesson?" Spartacus asked the girl once she was on the ground.

"Attack and retreat," she huffed, hoisting herself back up.

"Attack and retreat!" Spartacus repeated. Proserpina attacked, thrusting her sword at the gladiator, barely missing his face as he leaned away from it. He swung his sword at her, but she ducked and ran under his arm, quickly getting back into position behind him. Spartacus turned to her with a smile. "Good. Very good."

Proserpina said nothing in response, but pounced at the man again. He blocked her blow and she quickly backed up a few steps. Spartacus did not allow her to regain her position as he lunged at her. She blocked the first thrust of his sword, but he came around with the other and hit her in the ribs.

The Amazon groaned and instinctively grabbed her side, allowing Spartacus to grab her from behind and place his sword at her throat. She leaned back, away from the wooden weapon, the back of her head resting on the gladiator's shoulder. His chest was warm and slick against her flesh.

"Your head is mine, Goddess," Spartacus whispered in her ear. "What would you have me do with it?"

Proserpina had no words for the man. She only hoped that he did not hear her heart pounding in her chest, nor notice the labored breath that rose from her lungs. He stood his ground a moment longer, then removed his sword from her neck and took his position once more.

"Proserpina, again!"


	8. Back to the Pits

**Queen of the Underworld**

Chapter 8: _Back to the Pits_

* * *

><p>"Dominus says I am to fight in the Pits tonight," Proserpina told her companions as they broke their fast that morning. Unlike her companions, she seemed none too worried.<p>

"Back to the pits?" Varro asked curiously, lowering his voice so none of the other gladiators could hear him. He knew that the underworld was for those shamed and sentenced to death. It served as a place of entertainment for foul men with sorted intentions. He had once been one of those men before.

"Aye, until I earn the mark."

"If you live long enough to see the day," Spartacus said, a hint of worry in his voice. He dropped his spoon in the bowl and sat it down roughly in front of him. "Why should you fight in the pits when you are training here?"

Proserpina shrugged her shoulders, perplexed at the man's reaction. Before she could respond, she spotted something behind the gladiators that caught her attention. "Seems Pietros has lost control of his flock," she muttered.

Spartacus turned to look at the stray birds and with a swiftness that the Amazon had seen only on the sand, he stood and quickly made his way to the boy's cell. Pigeons fluttered in the hall around them, not wandering too far away as though they did not know they were free.

"Pietros!" Spartacus called out. Varro and Proserpina were close in tow, trailing after the troubled man. When they all had arrived at the room, they found Pietro hanging by his neck from the ceiling. Varro averted his eyes, none too familiar with this method of willful death. Blood he could manage, torn flesh and detached limbs as well, but the young boy's bloated purple face would haunt him.

"He is free from the pain of this mortal world," Proserpina whispered, a phrase that she not too long ago said to Spartacus about his wife. He turned to her, to say something in reply, but could not find the words. Only now did he allow himself to understand her meaning.

Spartacus approached the boy and gently lifted him, removing the noose from around his distorted neck. He laid the body down on a pallet, placing him so he almost looked as though he was sleeping. The three stared down at him silently. _No one will die an honorable death in this cursed house_, Proserpina thought. _Gladiator or slave or otherwise_.

"We have to go," she told the others when she shook herself from her thoughts. "Come. Training has started." Varro moved to walk out of the room and Proserpina lightly took Spartacus by the crook of his elbow, trying to lead him away. "There is nothing you can do for him now."

Spartacus allowed her to pull him a few paces before he broke free of her grip and strode quickly to the training field. His eyes were determined, set upon his target that was waiting unsuspecting on the sands.

"GNAEUS!" he bellowed and tackled the gladiator, pounding his face with both fists before they could even reach the ground. Blood came down in harsh streams from the gladiator's nose and mouth, splattering the champion and dirt around them.

"ENOUGH!" Doctore yelled, but Spartacus took no heed to his command. He continued striking the beaten gladiator until he managed to throw Spartacus off of him. "What is this foolishness?" Doctore demanded.

It took Spartacus a few moments to stand, and Gnaeus even longer. "Pietros," Spartacus said while catching his breath, "the boy took his own life." The gladiator walked past his opponent, limping slightly from his hard impact with the man.

"He will be missed," Gnaeus said. "Especially his lips around my cock."

With a fury seen only by those who had been condemned to death at the Champion's hands, Spartacus turned and caught the gladiator by the neck, throwing him off the side of the cliff. Gnaeus's surprised yell of terror echoed through the valley until he landed with an audible splat on the rocks below.

Proserpina ran out onto the sands, stopping beside Spartacus, just short of the edge of the cliff. She toed the side perilously, looking far down beneath her to where the gladiator had fallen.

"You fool," she said, turning to Spartacus. She looked over her shoulder, back at the other gladiators, all still too shocked to move from their places. She tried to be angry, but could not. Instead, she feared for the Champion. "Now three lives shall be lost today."

-X-x-X-

Proserpina sat on the dirt floor, arms heavy with chains. The roar of the spectators was only a thundering in her ears as she tried to block out the noise. It seemed like she had been in the dark cell for hours, before a man came and freed her from her bonds.

"Enter Proserpina! Dread Queen of the Underworld! Goddess of Death! Cursed Lady of Hell who blesses us with blood!"

Proserpina pulled the silver mask over her face as she walked out onto the dirt pit. She wondered how the arena would be different than this. How the sun would feel against her flesh instead of the dank air below the earth. She wondered how Spartacus found himself there before, the Champion of Capua in a place like this. Surely, it was below him, but Proserpina was a goddess here.

"What weapons shall the gods bless them with? Or curse them with empty hands? Choose your fate!"

Proserpina's opponent was just as tall as the Amazon, but her body was smaller. Her dark skin shone like polished obsidian in the firelight as she moved swiftly to her place in the center of the ring. She pulled the card for a spear. Proserpina pulled brass knuckles. The crowd whooped and hollered at her disadvantage, but it was no matter. She would disarm the woman and end this quickly. She was in no mood for a show.

"We have a single rule - only one survives."


	9. Promises

**Queen of the Underworld**

Chapter 9: _Promises_

* * *

><p><em>Spartacus.<em> She saw the man, but had she said his name out loud? She must have, because he came to her, softly, slowly, giving no answer in response. "Spartacus?" Proserpina repeated. The champion placed a calloused hand on her sweaty forehead and pushed the hair out of her face.

"I told them I was fine," she said. The words scratched her dry throat as they came out. She did not know how long she had been laying on the wooden trundle in the back room of the ludus, only that hard surface was stiff and uncomfortable and she longed to move her legs again. The girl tried to sit up, pushing herself on her elbows, but hissed in pain as she disturbed her wound and quickly laid back down.

"You are not fine," Spartacus told her as she looked down at her ribs. A hard, yellow paste hid the damage from them. "Your wound should have been stitched before," he said.

Proserpina closed her eyes, remembering her fight in the pits. She had underestimated her opponent, depreciated her skill with the spear, ignored her own disadvantage. The ebony girl spotted the Amazon's weakness and went for her bandaged ribs straight away. Before it was over, she was hit with the broken shaft of the spear, reopening the wound from her previous fight.

Proserpina felt something cool on her face and was brought out of her recollection. Her eyes remained closed as she welcomed the soft cloth that gently washed her clammy skin clean. Droplets of water slid down the dirty flesh of her throat, following paths of fresh goosebumps. Gently, her head was lifted and the wet cloth caressed the back of her neck. When she opened her eyes, she was lost in crystal blue depths.

"You should not do that," the girl whispered, though she did not wish for him to stop.

"Why so?" Spartacus asked, but did not halt his ministrations, kneading her shoulders as he cleaned them, wiping her chest free from sweat and dirt and blood. He took one of her arms and slowly brought the cloth down the length of it and back up again.

"The Champion of Capua should not bathe a slave," she told him.

"I am a slave as well, if you have forgotten."

_And so was Barca, and Sura, and Pietros,_ she thought. A shiver of fear crept up her spine. What a sad fate for them all, but yet Spartacus was more than a slave. More than just a gladiator. She felt undeserving of his gentle and caring touch.

"I will never fight in the arena," she said. "It is true, what they say. I will forever be Dominus's pet."

"Where did you hear those words?" Spartacus asked, washing the dirt and blood off of her hands, massaging them with his own.

"Varro..."

"Varro only jests," the man assured her. "Pay him no mind." He dipped the cloth in the water again and began to wash her stomach, skipping the flesh under the rough fabric that was placed over her chest. She flinched away when he got close to her wound, but he kept going.

"His words do ring true," she said quietly.

Spartacus sighed, his breath smelt of oats and sweet butter from the meal that just passed. "He has told me stories," he admitted.

"Stories? About what?"

"Amazons," he said with a hidden smirk. Proserpina stared up at the man, waiting for him to continue. "How they live their lives to fight." He placed a hand under her thigh and gently bent her leg at the knee. He began at the bottom of her subligaria and gently bathed her flesh with the cool water. The girl's skin felt ablaze underneath his fingertips. One hand kneaded the weary muscles before the soft cloth followed its path to wipe away the grime from the Pits. "How they take no husbands," he recounted to her as he washed her calf and shin. "And only lay with a man when it is time for more daughters." He moved to her other leg and treated it with the same care. Could he feel her trembling under his touch? "And if they do have a mind to stay with a man, they are forced away."

Proserpina opened her tired eyes and looked up at the gladiator. She softly nodded her head to let him know that everything he had said was right. "Sometimes, their daughters are sold," she told him, "or killed. Even if she had grown up and trained with them for many years. There is no room for the product of a weak heart."

Spartacus dipped the cloth in the water again as they sat in silence and began to wash her feet. "Apologies for what I said," he told her but would not meet her eyes. And she was glad of it. She blinked roughly to try to force the tears away. "To say you know nothing of love, it was cruel of me."

Proserpina nodded her head in acceptance, but Spartacus did not see. He wrung out the dirty cloth and sat it inside the bowl. The girl's flesh was still dancing with the lingering shadows of the gladiator's caring fingers. She wished he would continue, to bathe and caress the parts that he avoided. To undress her of her coarse coverings and wash away the unfamiliar ache that she felt. But he did not. He place a gentle palm on her forehead and smiled down at her.

"Rest," he said tenderly. "Recover your strength. I promise you, I will make you into a gladiator."


	10. Buried Truths

**Queen of the Underworld**

Chapter 10: _Buried Truths_

RIP Andy Whitfield

* * *

><p>"I see that your absence from training has not slowed you down in the least," Spartacus said to his sparring partner as he barely ducked beneath her wooden sword.<p>

"I feel better than ever," Proserpina replied with a smile, stepping back into position. A week of recovery had done her body good, though she began to feel restless the last couple of days. The medicus was far from an enjoyable companion, but Spartacus and Varro visited her often and their company was well received. Still, she longed to get back to training and hold the champion to his promise.

The girl attacked Spartacus once more, but he quickly blocked the blow with his sword, and slammed his shield hard into her breast. She stumbled back, struggling to keep her balance. Proserpina could be swifter than any man, but she was no match against brute strength.

"You use your body well," the gladiator told Proserpina as he approached her with his weapons lowered. "But with your sword, I know your every move." He put the hilt of his weapon underneath her chin so that she looked up at him. He took in her face for a moment. "Your eyes confess everything."

_Not everything, I pray._

But Spartacus's eyes were not entirely without their own declaration as he looked at her, though Proserpina could not uncover the hidden secrets behind them. There was something unyielding in the blue depths that the girl longed to discover; concealed facets of the beautiful sapphires that had since gone unnoticed until now. She stared curiously at the silent man, waiting for him to speak again.

_He can see into my soul. That is his secret._

He knew her every move, her every lunge and parry. He knew every quick pounding beat of her heart, every breath, every thought. The Amazon looked away less he unearth any other buried truths about her.

"Mind their movements, not your own," Spartacus told her, unaware of the girl's introspection. "Watch your opponent closely," he said and circled slowly around her. "Watch, not where you will strike, but how he moves. The twitch of a muscle before he lunges, the bend of an elbow before he thrusts. I watch and I know, and that is how I best you." The gladiator stood again before Proserpina. "Attack my left flank," he commanded.

The girl sprung, but did not do as she was told. She thrust her sword towards his right side, but he blocked it without hesitation. "Good attempt, but mind your eyes!" Spartacus said with a smile.

Proserpina sighed and looked up at the descending sun. The last of the men were beginning to leave the training yard, but she knew Spartacus would keep her there until she got her lesson right.

"Strike me once," her mentor said, "and we will be finished for the day."

-X-x-X-

"Your eyes are as daggers when you study the girl," spoke Ilythia to her companion. The two women stood on the second story balcony, overlooking the almost deserted training field.

"She is most irksome," Lucretia replied. The younger woman watched as her friend's grip on the terrace banister tightened, turning her already pale knuckles white. Ilythia covered her companion's hand softly with one of her own. Her other found its way onto the woman's back.

"The girl is but a slave. What could she have possibly done?"

The mistress of the house groaned and turned to her confidant. "Truly, it is not her doing," she said as she took hold of both of the younger's hands and leaned in closer to her. "I trust we can speak in confidence."

Ilythia kissed the woman's cheeks and nodded her head eagerly. "Of course. You are my dearest friend."

Lucretia gave one more glance to the sparring pair. "Quintus wishes to use her to breed gladiators," she explained. "First with Spartacus, then Crixus, and only the gods know who else!"

The blonde's eyes lit up in excitement. Her grip tightened on her companion's hands. "How fascinating! But, tell me Lucretia, why does that trouble you?"

The woman cleared her throat. "Well," she started and paused, then continued after she gathered her thoughts, "it will take years to see outcome! And it is a waste of coin! Rather her fight and die in the arena then us follow a fleeting idea."

"Oh, nonsense!" Ilythia exclaimed as she quickly walked back over to the banister. The girl was now helping Spartacus off the ground after a hard earned victory. "This has the capacity to be most rewarding! Have you told them?"

"No, but soon," Lucretia said as she, too, watched the fighters' retreating forms. "Let us not rush too strong into this wreck."


	11. A Room of One's Own

**Queen of the Underworld**

Chapter 11_: A Room of One's Own_

* * *

><p>"What is this?" Proserpina asked as she stood at the door of a dark cell. A single torch on the stone wall illuminated the small chamber. The floors were dirt and the furniture of the room comprised of a single pallet.<p>

"It is yours," Spartacus replied as he walked further into the cell. He outstretched his arms and seemed to dwarf the tiny space around him.

"Mine? But -"

"If you want to be a gladiator, you must train, eat, live like a gladiator," he said sternly. "From now forth, you sleep here in the ludus. I know it is not much, but it is your own."

"Gratitude, Spartacus," Proserpina said, not quite able to express her thanks as she, too, walked into the room. "Never have I had anything of my own before. It is a pleasant feeling."

The man only nodded his head in response.

"How did you do it?" she asked.

"Dominus and I came to an understanding," Spartacus told her. He put a hand up before she could speak. "But think not of it." He pointed at a small basin of water in the corner. "So you can bathe," he explained. He then motioned to the pallet. "Your bed." Lastly, he grabbed the door and closed it, trapping them both in the small cell. He stood at the entryway and stared out the, barred window. "Your stars," he said.

Proserpina took a step forward so she could stand beside the gladiator and looked out the window to the night sky. Almost, it seemed as though she was at peace, but the feeling was short lived.

"Pleasant dreams," Spartacus said as he put a hand on the girl's shoulder. "I believe a test is in your future."

-X-x-X-

"UP! You will sleep when you prove yourself a man!"

The girl jumped from her bed as she was abruptly woken. There, in the open doorway, stood a tall figure, but she could not place who it was. Outside, it was still dark, the early morning sun not yet risen, and the person was but a shadow against the sky.

"Out on the sand," the man commanded, and Proserpina realized it was Doctore who was speaking.

She followed his retreating form onto the training field, still trying to fully wake. At the center of the enclosure, the man stopped and stood in front of Proserpina. "What is beneath your feet?" he asked.

The girl looked down and dug her bare toes into the soft, cool earth, not knowing how to respond.

"Answer me!"

"Sand?" Proserpina said, her voice rough from lack of use. Doctore stood silent for a moment before speaking again.

"Spartacus?" he called.

Proserpina saw the vague outline of the champion step forward. His footsteps made a heavy sound on the sand as he walked. "Sacred ground, Doctore," he said, "watered with the tears of blood."

"Your tears," Doctore said, pointing his whip at the girl. "Your blood. Your pathetic life, forged into something of worth." He walked closer towards the Amazon. "Tell me, Proserpina, you have bled, but have you wept?"

"No, Doctore," she responded.

"Have no doubt that you soon will," he told her. "As a gladiator, you will be burned, beaten, brought to your knees in pain, and more than once you will beg for death." The man walked around Proserpina, dragging a sword along with him, making a circle in the sand that orbited the girl. "But death will come soon enough," Doctore continued. "And when it does, you must rage against it so that it trembles upon meeting you. For a gladiator does not fear death! He embraces it. He caresses it. He fucks it."

The girls eyes looked towards Spartacus, but neither of the gladiators saw for the lack of light.

"Forget everything you have learned outside these walls, for that is the world of men. We are more. This is the world of gladiators!" Doctore plunged the point of the sword into the sand before the girl. "Proserpina, get in position." He walked a few paces out of the way, so that the Amazon could barely see where he went. "Spartacus, do not go easy on her, for in the arena, they will not."

Proserpina pulled the sword from the ground as another was thrown at her feet. She picked that one up as well and quickly got into the position.

"Begin!" Doctore called.

Under the cloak of darkness, the Amazon could not see Spartacus, but she could hear as he quickly approached her. He was upon her almost instantly, and she raised her sword to meet his own. The clash of wood echoed into the empty dawn as he struck again, his efforts blocked once more.

Proserpina kicked his chest, pushing him away so that she could regain her position just in time for the champion to advance upon her again. He jabbed his weapon towards her stomach, but she swiftly evaded it. She brought her own sword over her head and down on Spartacus, but it met his shield. The Amazon felt the force of the impact through her whole arm as she shuffled back a few paces. She meant to keep him close, so that she could see him as he moved, but she also had to follow her instructions. _Attack and retreat_.

This time, Proserpina took the offensive and lunged towards the man, swiping her sword low around his knees. Spartacus raised his leg to step over the weapon and, as he did, brought his shield up hard, slamming it into her jaw.

Proserpina's body rose in the air then fell with a bitter thud to the sand. As she laid on her back, she felt her mouth fill with blood so she slowly turned her head and spat it on the ground. When she opened her eyes, Spartacus was above her, sword pointed down towards her neck.

"You are dead, Proserpina," she heard Doctore say as she continued staring into the champion's eyes. "Sent back to the Underworld where you belong."

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for the reviews! They are very encouraging! Everybody must be excited for the new season of Spartacus!<strong>


	12. Questionable Intentions

**Queen of the Underworld**

Chapter 12: _Questionable Intentions_

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><p>"Dominus no longer wishes his pet to sleep in the house."<p>

Proserpina looked up from her food and regarded the man who spoke those words - Felix. She had always ignored his snide remarks, choosing rather to not give him the satisfaction of seeing her upset. Today it seemed that his very voice would irk her to the point of madness. She was tired, up this morning well before the break of dawn, and wanted nothing more than to be left alone.

"For what offense, I wonder," Attilus replied.

"Do you not know?" Felix said, staring at the girl instead of his companion. "Dominus easily tires of the same bitch day after day."

Proserpina crossed her arms and gave him a small chuckle, waiting for him to continue. Felix's brow furrowed in frustration as he pressed on. "So he sends her down here. But we do not want the Amazon cunt either."

Attilus laughed. "But she is down here to be a gladiator, is she not?"

Felix laughed louder than his friend, the sound bellowing through the room, drawing more attention to himself. "A gladiator? That is a fucking joke. She is not worthy of the title."

"And what makes you worthy?" Proserpina asked from across the room. The men between them looked back at Felix, waiting for his answer.

"I am a warrior! I am a titan!" he said as he pounded his chest with a fist. "And you are but a novelty, here for show."

Proserpina stood up and quickly closed the distance between the man and herself. "I have brought better men than you to their knees," she growled.

"And I would prefer you on yours," he countered.

Without a second thought, Proserpina brought her hands up and slapped both of Felix's ears simultaneously with her palms, throwing him off balance and making him stagger towards her. She punched him in the stomach and, as he double over, she brought her fist back up and hit him in the jaw, sending him into the wall behind him.

Though bloodied, Felix regained his senses and charged towards the girl, slamming her into the floor. She moved her head as he tried to strike her, making him hit the ground instead. With both fists interlocking, she punched him in the nose, then pushed him off of her. She straddled him, punching him with all of the strength left in her.

Proserpina was then pulled off of the gladiator, easily picked up and set back on her feet. She tried to jump on the man again, but was caught around the waist before she could. She was turned and met Spartacus's eyes as he held her face in his hands to get her attention.

"Peace, Proserpina! Let them jest!" he said. "Be the bigger man."

Proserpina jerked away from the gladiator. "And that is how you see me!" she hissed. "A man!"

The girl swiftly stormed off in the direction of her cell with Spartacus close behind. He called her name and she stopped once out of sight of the others. She turned and punched the wall, making the stone crumble where she hit it. Spartacus grabbed Proserpina's wrist and turned her to him. He tried to inspect her hand, which was covered in blood; he did not know whether it belonged to Felix or if it were her own. She pulled her wrist from his grasp, so the gladiator grabbed her shoulders, pinning her roughly against the wall.

"Why do you behave as such?" he growled.

"Why do you treat me as such?" she yelled.

Spartacus stared into her eyes, curious to her meaning and, far from the first time, he thought that they were like honey as he got stuck in the sweet depths. She was still fuming with anger, her chest heaving furiously with every breath, but she made no move to rid his hands from her shoulders.

Spartacus studied the rest of her face. There were no fresh injuries nor bruises and he found himself relieved. The gladiator must not have gotten a hit in. He looked down at her cut lip, slightly swollen from his assault on her earlier that day, and leaned down to press his own against it. His fingertips slid across her flesh to hold her face between hands. Her skin was moist and seemed to burn underneath his touch.

She stiffened for a moment before placing her hands on his chest and shoving him away. They stood in silence, staring at each other until Proserpina opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. She tried again and was successful on the second attempt.

"What meaning does your kiss hold?" she asked.

Spartacus shook his head as if he himself did not know. "Adoration," he finally said, "for a goddess."

He stepped towards her again and she put a hand up. "Don't," she whispered, but he ignored her plea. He placed his palms against the wall on either side of her face. Their bodies were close, and Proserpina could hardly breathe. Spartacus leaned down and brushed his lips across the girl's, and this time she let him.

One of the champion's hands found Proserpina's hip and he massaged the bare flesh there before wrapping his arm around her back. He pulled her towards him, pressing their bodies flush together.

"AH! I knew it!" The two jumped apart and looked to where Varro was standing, arms crossed with the usual grin on his face. "How have I not caught you two before?"

"Varro, really -" Proserpina started, but the gladiator interrupted her.

"You think I miss the looks between you?" he said with a laugh. The girl's face reddened. She wanted to run away, but did not have to. A guard rounded the hall and addressed her.

"Proserpina, you are summoned."

-x-X-x-

When she entered the room, her masters were lounging upon a chaise, eating food from a large silver tray. Batiatus smiled as he spotted the girl.

"Behold Proserpina," he announced to the empty room and Lucretia forced a smile. "I assume Spartacus has told you of our arrangement?" he asked.

The girl shook her head. "No. Dominus?"

He plucked another grape from its stem and popped it in his mouth, placing the rest back on the tray. "From now on, you will couple with Spartacus," he stated simply.

"Couple?"

Batiatus sighed as his wife rolled her eyes. "He will fuck you," he told her. "Until seed plants in stomach and you give us a champion."

"A baby! Dominus - I... I was bought to fight!"

Batiatus stood from the chaise and walked towards Proserpina with haste. "You were bought as a slave!" he yelled. "To do anything and everything I request. I own you - your life, your name, your cunt are all mine!"

The girl balled her hands into fists. "I refuse."

Her dominus looked away, trying to gather himself, but when he turned back to the Amazon, he struck her with the back of his hand. Lucretia stood up quickly and the guard made to move, but Proserpina did nothing. She stared back up at Batiatus, face red and lips pursed.

"Let us talk as girls," Lucretia suggested to her husband as she put a comforting hand on his arm. He nodded his head and gave one last warning look at Proserpina before leaving with the guard.

"When did you last bleed?" Lucretia asked when the men were out of the room.

"Not since the first time, Domina," Proserpina said, then ran her tongue over the inside of her swelling cheek.

"How is that so?"

"We can control when we bleed - Amazons can," she explained, "and only do so when we are ready to mate."

"How?" Lucretia asked, more interested than before.

"Stop training," Proserpina said simply. "Gain weight."

Lucretia chuckled. "So you are saying you are not _fat _enough to bear a child?"

"Yes, Domina."

The womans laughed again and brought something out of the blue skirts of her stola. She handed a black pouch to the girl. "Take a pinch of this herb every evening at supper," she commanded and Proserpina nodded her head. "It will keep seed from planting. In case your Amazon tricks are not sufficient."

Proserpina scrutinized the bloated pouch in her hand. "Why would Dominus command me to lie with Spartacus if you want me to prevent the purpose?"

"He will have Spartacus fuck you," Lucretia said. "Then Crixus, Varro, Felix... anyone he believes would make a champion. Do you want that, girl?"

"No, Domina."

"Then do not question intent."

-x-X-x-

"Your face," Spartacus said when Proserpina returned to the ludus. "How did you come to get this bruise?"

"I am marred all over from training. I have had this injury."

The champion went to touch her cheek, but she flinched away. "I know your every bruise," he told her. "This is fresh."

Proserpina walked past him towards the training field, but changed her mind after a few steps. She turned and stared at the man. "Why did you not tell me?" she asked.

"Tell you what?"

"You know what!" she hissed. She was tired of games. She was sick of being played and toyed with. Her cheek still stung and her eyes were heavy for need of sleep, but she continued. "They intend to mate us like dogs! Was that your understanding with him, Spartacus? That you would fuck me without complaint?"

"No, Proserpina. He did tell me, but -"

"Save your words," she said, "for they will fall on deaf ears."


	13. A Friend Amongst Enemies

**Queen of the Underworld**

Chapter 13: _A Friend Amongst Enemies_

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><p>"You life now promises meaning," Batiatus said. "Swear it to me. Recite the sacramentum gladiatorum."<p>

Proserpina's heart was filled to bursting as she kneeled upon the sand in front of her dominus. The dark night was lit by torches surrounding the training field, all eyes upon her and her master. Some of the men looked pleased; another was joining the brotherhood, to bring honor and prestige to the ludus. Others were not so satisfied, believing that Proserpina was merely replacing a gladiator that had fallen that night.

Felix was a disappointing opponent. He was overly confident in his abilities and his tawdry attempts to humor the men proved to be his downfall. He asked for a wooden sword in place of a gladius and was granted his request. It was over quickly, to Proserpina's chagrin, shortened by his prideful disadvantage. She was angry, and felt cheated during a time when she was finally able to prove herself. Her sword found its way through his eye.

Varro's voice rung in her head as she kneeled. He had taught her the words the day before, patiently repeating them until the girl got them right.

"I commit my flesh, my mind, my will, to the glory of this ludus and the commands of my master, Batiatus," Proserpina pledged. "I swear to be burned, chained, beaten, or die by the sword in pursuit of honor in the arena."

The girl presented her forearm to her dominus and, with a searing pain, he branded his mark on her flesh. He looked down at the gladiatrix and smirked. "Welcome to the brotherhood."

-X-x-X-

"It takes a little of the dignity from it, being seen to like a child," Proserpina said to Varro with a smile as the medicus wrapped her arm. The salve cooled her inflamed burn and the pressure of the dressing alleviated the pain. It was a good pain, though. Satisfying and well deserved.

"The glory is still yours," Varro told the gladiatrix after he assured her that everyone received the same treatment, himself included. "Is it not a most joyful time? And one meant to spend among friends..."

"What are you, Varro, if not my friend?"

The man sat on a wooden trundle opposite the girl. "You know my meaning," he sighed.

The medicus gave him a disapproving look, but let him be as he walked out of the room. Proserpina fingered the fresh bandages, trying to avoid her companion's gaze. "Things are never as they seem," she said.

"But Spartacus, he is a good man. Without neither secrets nor deception."

She looked back up at the gladiator. "And what drives such a man?"

"At first, to see his wife again," Varro said. He stared at the girl, but her face was like stone. "Now, to please Dominus until he can gain his freedom."

Proserpina nodded her head. Freedom is what he desired above all. A noble ambition, but one that she did not share in. What is freedom to someone who knows of nothing but captivity? The girl let out a long breath. "Get your rest," she suggested to Varro, attempting to once again smile. "Tomorrow I shall strike with the renewed vigor of a gladiator."

Varro chuckled and got back on his feet. He placed a hand on the girl's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze, then bid her good night.

The gladiatrix sat in the dim room for a moment longer, collecting her thoughts. She wanted nothing more than to avoid Spartacus on the way to her cell, as she had done the last couple nights. She had even sparred with different partners in the days past, choosing not to continue her lessons with the champion. But her eyes found his as she ascended the scaffold that night, standing still next to Varro as the other gladiators either taunted or cheered.

Proserpina slid off of the trundle and leisurely walked to the leisurely passageway, still trying to pass the time. She stopped when she heard a sound from the corner. Lucretia's bodyslave was there, trifling through the wine amphoras.

"Naevia, a word?" the gladiatrix asked softly.

The slave looked curiously at Proserpina before ascending a few stairs with the chosen decanter. "Domina is expecting me," she said.

"Can you not spare a moment?"

Naevia nodded her head as Proserpina stepped closer to her. She looked around, to make sure they were alone. "Barca," she said in barely a whisper. "What was the reason for his - _departure_?"

The slave's flesh drained of all color and her breathing grew shallow. She tried to compose herself but the truth was written on her face. "He bought his freedom," Naevia choked out.

"I was there, as were you. These words were spoken: _Now you're free_." Proserpina stared hard at the girl. "Was it because he desired his freedom? Tell me."

"Truly I do not know."

"Do you not? It would be a shame if any other lost their life for a similar want," the gladiatrix said. "Say, if Crixus expressed this wish..."

The girl was taken aback. She held the wine decanter close to her breast as if it would shield her from the Amazon's words. "Do you threaten me?" Naevia asked as she took another backward step up the staircase.

"Certainly not," Proserpina said, shocked at the girl's accusation. Softly, she placed her hands over Naevia's and leaned in closer. "We merely share similar troubles and I wish only to know that I can count you amongst friends."

-X-x-X-

Batiatus stood in the middle of his chambers as a slave undressed him. "I should have arranged for one more showing in the pits, to prove that the Nubian girl did not best her," he told his wife. The woman lounged upon their bed, body already bare and exposed to the soft wind that blew in from the window.

"But instead you choose to put her to the test?" she asked.

"She must be pliable," the man explained. "I grow weary of such resistance from these fucking slaves."

"I still do not believe it is worth the effort," Lucretia said. "What if your experiment fails?"

Batiatus waved the slave off and crawled into bed with his wife. "It will not fail. She will produce a child. And it will grow into the likes of a champion so glorious and magnificent that all of Rome will tremble at his footsteps."

The woman rolled her eyes. "But... what if?"

"If it fails," he said with a sigh, "she will just have to earn her keep in the arena. But we shall soon see."

"When?" Lucretia asked.

Batiatus stroked the pale flesh of his wife's shoulder. "The night after next."

"But the games are that day," Lucretia reminded him.

The man's fingers roamed over her soft neck and breasts. "Exactly. It should put them both in high spirits."

His wife leaned into his touch. "If she survives that long."


	14. Virgin

**Queen of the Underworld**

Chapter 14: _Virgin_

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><p><em><strong>Note:<strong> _This is pure smut. If you are offended by sex, please do not read this chapter.

* * *

><p>"That was quite the showing!" Batiatus said to Spartacus and Proserpina. "Continue on this path and watch as you reap your rewards!" The man stopped and stood in front of the gladiators, taking in their appearances. They were both washed and scented, and both clad in new clothes bought specifically for this occasion. Spartacus was with neither his leather nor armor, but only a tunic that left him bare from the waist up. Proserpina looked more elaborate, her hair done up heavy in braids and curls, and dressed more decent, but not by much.<p>

"Proserpina, a virgin upon the sands of the arena, and yet how fiercely you fought!" Batiatus continued. The girl bowed her head in gratitude. She had fought at midday, along with the other novice gladiators, but she had earned her due. The crowd had cheered her name, praising the Goddess of Death as she sent another to the Underworld.

"Your stola pleases you?" he asked, fingering the soft material that hung from the woman's body.

"Yes, Dominus," she replied simply. She was draped in a gown of white silk, covered in part by a lavender gossamer stola. Both were clasped at the shoulders with pearl fasteners and plunged low in the front into a deep neckline.

"She is a vision, is she not?" Batiatus asked the Champion.

Spartacus continued to look straight forward, not even stealing a sideways glance at the girl as he spoke. "Indeed, she is."

Proserpina could feel her face burn hot. It was one thing to be complimented on her martial prowess, but quite another to commend her appearance. And Spartacus of all people. She heard how the women yelled for him, watched as they bared themselves at just the sound of his name, and now the champion was standing beside her, tall and proud, and _she_ was the one getting praised.

The dominus cleared his throat before proceeding to speak again. "We have a special guest in our presence today - Quintilius Varis - and you will do everything he asks of you, is that understood?"

"Yes, Dominus," the pair said in unison.

He smiled at the couplet and turned, leading them into the adjacent room where his wife and guest were sitting. The man's face lit up when the two entered through the door. His lewd grin unnerved the woman and she fell in step behind Spartacus. The Champion noticed and, in turn, walked a bit straighter, hoping to inconspicuously shield his companion from the man's gaze.

"Step forward, girl, don't be shy," Quintilius Varis said as he stood, so she obliged, walking a few paces towards the three Romans.

"They are a breathtaking pair, are they not?" Lucretia asked him, her face screwed up as if the words were bitter on her lips. Her guest did not notice, his full attention on the two gladiators that were before him, ready to do his bidding.

"Remove your dress," he commanded, and hesitantly, Proserpina reached up and unfastened the pearl clasps at her shoulders. The gown fell in a lavender pool around her feet, but she did not bother to step out of it. She felt more exposed than naked, with three pairs of scrupulous eyes staring at her and Spartacus motionless, but still clothed, at her side.

"And you," Varis said to the champion. "Your tunic."

With all the dignity that he could muster, Spartacus pulled the fabric from his waist and, unlike the girl, kept a corner of the cream cotton gripped in his hand. He stood straight and tall, akin to the gladiator beside him as the others appraised them both. Varis circled behind Proserpina and stopped, running a single finger down the length of her spine. The girl's body tensed, then shuddered in masked aversion.

The champion's hold on his tunic tensed and Batiatus gave him a warning look. Spartacus released the fabric, allowing it to fall to the floor, mingling with the woman's clothes. There was nothing he could do that would not get them both killed, and he was the champion - and a champion had duties.

"This_ will _be a treat," Varis cooed, walking back to his prior position beside Lucretia. He sat down on the chaise, crossed his legs, and motioned to the gladiators. "Proceed."

Spartacus slowly turned to the woman, gently placing a hand on her shoulder to turn her as well, and goosebumps patterned themselves on her flesh. Whether they were from fear or something else, he did not know, but the night was hot, and her nipples erect, and the champion imagined that it was all from the anticipation of his touch. He watched as a bead of sweat trailed a path down Proserpina's neck, to the crevice between her breasts, and he tried to hide his own shameful excitement.

The dais had already been prepared, generously swathed in silks and jeweled-colored cushions for Quintilius Varis's arrival. Spartacus led Proserpina to the pallet, and cradled the back of her head as she laid down upon it. He slid his hand down her neck, her pulse fluttering underneath his fingertips.

He heard Varis's sigh of impatience and joined the gladiatrix on the dais, spreading her trembling thighs and settling himself between them. Spartacus caressed her cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing past her parted lips and he longed to kiss her, but no, he could not. They must not see that, so instead, he let his hand wander down to her core, finding the woman surprising wet and ready for him. He wished that he could comfort her and worship her, stroke her body with feather light touches until she writhed begging and willing underneath him, but he hadn't the time. And he did not want to see what would happen if this voyeuristic guest became any more anxious.

Spartacus placed his weight on one forearm and guided himself inside of her. She was so tight and resisting, yet made no sound save for the silk bundling underneath her back where she arched away from it. Spartacus could not tear his eyes from her face as he filled her, watching as Proserpina bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, her throat exposed and inviting. So he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck as he pulled back out. He could hear her rapid heartbeat, her shallow breathing, and her small whimper as he pushed back inside of her.

If he did believe in the gods, he would be thanking them. This woman, so warm and soft underneath him, had to be a blessing, despite the circumstances, despite the others watching. This is how it was supposed to be - on silk sheets and plush pillows - and he whispered soft words of reassurance into her ear as he thrust in and out.

And back in and back out until Proserpina was meeting each stroke with her own, pulling him into herself, her breasts pressed against his chest and thighs snug around his hips. They move as seasoned partners, as they would a dance - or battle - so organic and natural that the Amazon no longer felt any shame. She opened her eyes and realized that he had been staring down at her, his own so blue and clear and beautiful, and her fingertips dug into his back to bring him closer.

Spartacus moved in a faster rhythm, bringing his forehead to rest against hers and their breath blended, and her soft sighs turned to moans, the sound of them bringing him closer and closer to his release. He immersed himself inside of her, choosing rather to grind into her in circles, his hard flesh stroking her clit, and Proserpina's mouth fell open in a silent scream.

Her orgasm washed over her, her limbs sparkling with a soft, heated ache as if they were numb, and Spartacus could not help but kiss her. He did not care what the Romans thought, only that this woman was underneath him, gripped in a pleasure so intense that milked his own cock. She held onto him, grateful for something so unyielding to anchor her to this world so she would not float away, and she felt him shudder inside of her.

They came together, arched into one another, skin sliding across slick skin, and Proserpina let out one more carnal moan.

Unable to hold up his own weight, Spartacus laid his head on her chest, her heart beating fast against his ear. His arms wrapped securely around the woman, under her shoulders, and his hands buried themselves in her hair. Proserpina relaxed her legs, laying them down on the silks, and stretched her body out long on the dais, the champion's softened manhood still inside of her.

"Proserpina," he whispered as his fingertips massaged her scalp. "My queen. My goddess."

* * *

><p><strong>My wonderful, wonderful readers. Will you ever forgive me? I have been so cruel, I know, not updating when I am supposed to and leaving you all alone. My humblest apologies. Torture me, punish me, but please, do not be angry.<strong> **Just know that I love you :)**


	15. Kiss of Death

**Queen of the Underworld**

Chapter 15: _Kiss of Death_

* * *

><p>"Proserpina -"<p>

"No." The gladiatrix put her hands up to stop Spartacus from talking. "Do not be sorry about this. If you are, then do not speak of it." She turned to walk to her cell, but the champion stopped her.

"I do not regret that it happened," he said. "Only that it was for the purpose of sport."

His voice held a unwavering confidence, but yet something else was there. A concealed sadness that Proserpina found. His eyes had betrayed him - bright blue rimmed in a tearful red that shined in the light of the new moon. The woman took his hand and guided him a few paces to the seclusion of her cell.

"Then why do you grieve?" the gladiatrix asked, pleading with him to confide in her. She dropped his hand and they stood in the silence of the room. Proserpina leaned against the wall, the stone cold against her back, and waited. "Spartacus?"

"Do I dishonor my wife," he finally began, "to desire another woman?"

The Amazon released the breath that she was holding, and nudged herself off the wall with her shoulders. "Your wife?" she asked sharply. "Why would she concern herself with the troubles of the mortal world?"

The champion took a slow, guarded step towards the woman, and she matched his movement with her own. "So acrid a tone as if the words are bitter on your lips," Spartacus remarked, his eyes cutting into hers so sharp that she almost looked down in shame. But instead, she took a step closer, removing the distance from between them.

"So callous a subject to bring forth to me as if your mind was removed from this night's events," she hissed. "_You do not regret it happened_," she repeated his words, "yet you bare the mark of disgrace and use a disapproving wife as your excuse?"

Spartacus took her shoulders roughly in his hands. With a sudden jerk he pulled her towards himself, their chests colliding with the force of his anger. "MY WIFE -"

"Is long dead and even longer lost to you!" Proserpina pushed the man away, but all strength had left her and the champion merely took a step back. "Let her die, Spartacus. Give her peace as well as yourself."

Spartacus shook his head and sighed, bewildered at the fact that the night had taken such an unfortunate turn. But could he blame the woman for her words? Many things known to him were not known to her. "I have said it once -"

"And allow me to say it again," the woman interjected. "_I know nothing of love. _I am a killer absent heart, but put hand to chest and feel it beating." She grabbed the champion's wrist and place his palm against her breast. Her heart pounded with the fury of her words, so intense that Spartacus felt as if it were jumping into his grasp, offering itself to him. Her voice softened. "I am but human. And you would have me oppose a ghost?"

The man could say nothing in return. They stood in silence once more, the gladiator's hand still against the woman's chest, her hands over his own to keep it there. His fingertips moved against her flesh and Proserpina released him, allowing his arm to drop back down to his side.

"You did not answer my question," Spartacus told her, a deep rumble to his voice that almost frightened the woman. "Do I dishonor my wife?"

Proserpina scoffed. _So he has heard nothing I said?_ The man turned to leave her cell and retire to his own, but not before his companion answered him. "No, Spartacus. It is I who bares the dishonor."

-X-x-X-

This is what she needed. The maddening clamor of the crowd pounding in her ears. The bite of steel against flesh. Anything to make her forget, even if it hurt. Sand rough against blurred eyes. The sun hot against her burning back. The sickening crunch of a broken jaw against her foot. Yes, he would feel pain too.

But she would turn the pain into something she could use.

The man struggled to his feet, eyes wild and mouth bloody. He dug his shield into the earth so that he may lift himself and stand, but Proserpina paid him no mind. The gladiatrix rolled her wrists, swinging her blades around and lifting them high into the air, exciting the onlookers in the arena. They cheered even louder, the roar making the woman's body tremble and she turned back to her almost beaten opponent.

With the howl of a man who had not yet accepted his fate, the gladiator ran towards the woman. Proserpina ducked beneath the swing of his sword, pivoting around so that she may use her own weapon, and connected with the side of the man's neck. Her sword nearly went all the way through before it stopped and with an angry growl, she tore her gladius from the man's flesh. He fell at her feet, staining the ground around her.

Drunk on the smell of blood and sand, Proserpina threw down her swords and grabbed a fistful of the fallen gladiator's hair. She put a foot on his back and pulled, ripping the head from its body, tearing the remaining flesh and muscle that still held onto it. She raised the severed head into the air so that crowd may see the spoils of the battle.

_I am a killer absent heart_, she thought and pulled off her goddess mask only to slip on another, the facade of a proud victor, not a crestfallen woman. She then brought the head down to place her lips against its dirty cheek, igniting the spectators once more. The gladiatrix looked up to the pulvinus and held the head towards it, an offering to her master. "Proserpina! Once more triumphant!" he announced. "Sending another to the Underworld with the Kiss of Death!"

* * *

><p><strong>So how are all of you liking season 2 of Spartacus? I think it is fantastic, but I do miss Mr. Andy Whitfield<strong>. **He was the perfect champion. And how about Agron? That man is delicious. I could just eat him up. And Seppius, too. Yum.  
><strong>


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